My Bloody Guardian
by InkStainedBones
Summary: Lilly couldn't breath, couldn't thinking, and could not comprehend the utter evil and darkness she had standing before her. Even as he legs and brain wanted her to run, her heart seemed to find his, and her body wanted to ease slowly closer . . . .


I guess I would have to say it all began with my death.

Until that vital point in my history, I was just like you. I lived my life, moving on with the flow of time without thinking about it too much. But times were very different back then. I did not chase guys, I was to instead remain quiet and accept whoever wanted me, even if I knew nothing of him. I was to dress in the finest clothing, as my father demanded, and help take care of my five younger sisters.

And like you, I suffered. Just a few years back we had lost my older sister, Halla, and the blow was still silently rocking my family, though you would never guess it from looking on the surface.  
My mother silently wept in the kitchen when she thought none of us were lingering by the door, hearing her and wishing to sooth her ache, but we did not even know how to sooth our own.

And just like some of you, I did not look like my family at all. It was uncommon for women in that time to have vibrant orange-red hair, auburn, I believe they call it now. And no one else had steely gray eyes that could scare off a person with a mere glance. It was not as if I used them for malice, but it seemed no matter what I did I would be called a witch.

And how could they not? When all of my siblings, my mother and father, had strawberry blond hair with bright blue eyes that always reminded me of the spring sky.

And just like you, I believed that death would be the end, and not the beginning.

Oh, how wrong I was.

"Do you really think she is one of them?" a young boys voice asked, and the sound was a harsh strain against my ears, which suddenly seemed so sensitive. I wanted to move, but I couldn't seem too, as if my whole body was paralyzed.

"I have never been wrong before." and older woman's voice responded, not sounding like she was offended at all by the younger boys question.

"But she hasn't moved at all." the boy complained, his voice reminding me so much of my little sisters when they did not get there way.

"Give her time, the process is not yet done." process?

Wait, where was I?

Something pressed up against my mind, not like a lingered dream from the night before, but like a important fact that would refuse to go away until it was acknowledged. I tried to reach for it, but my mind seemed so sluggish, so slow, even though the pressing was urgent and demanding.

What had I been doing? How had I ended up listening to a conversation between an old woman and a boy?

And suddenly just like that, what had been pressing on my mind popped into full view.

Full. Horrifying. View.

For what has pressed so hard against my mind was the memory of my own death.

Even though my body would not seem to move, I somehow opened my mouth. . .

and screamed bloody murder.

I stared down at my bare chest, a numbness sweeping over my mind, welcoming, in all that was happening. The older woman I had heard before was sitting across from me, the fire pit she had led me too sitting between us. I had finally managed to move my body, to find myself lying in my own grave, this elderly woman and young boy hovering over me, watching expectantly.

I had not even the courage to ask for the answers I sought.

_I was cleaning the place my father used to serve drinks to the men of this village, feeling tired __since it was well past midnight. The place was a mess, and I had to navigate my way through the tables and chairs to sweep up the remains the men had left behind in their drunken stupor._ _No one knew I cleaned this place after hours, women were not supposed to get their hands dirty on any such work as cleaning up alcohol and such. But my father needed the help, especially since he had become a drunk himself after the death of my sister._

_It was hard, with my corset limiting how far I could lean, and my large puffy dress getting in the way when I squatted down to reach for things. I had abandoned my fancy shoes and tights in favor for bare feet, all the better to balance with. Not to mention it was nice to feel the cool wood against my feet every once in awhile without someone there to judge me._

_But then the door opened. _

_I felt panic surge through me, knowing someone seeing me cleaning this place was going to cause problems for my family._

_Again._

_But I also had the stubbornness of a mule, and I was not going to be intimidated by anyone, I would use my gaze if I had too._

_I stood, finding three males standing in the door way of the door that I was sure I had locked before I had begun cleaning. All three wore guns on their belts, as was the norm, and all three had hats on their heads, tipped to hide their faces in shadow._

"_I am sorry, sir's, but we are closed at the moment." I strove for a polite, even tone, but something about them was sending chills down my spine. They just stood there, not even saying a word in response. I swallowed, glancing to the stairs in the back, wondering if I would have a chance of making it there before they got me if they decided too._

_No, not with the tables between me and the stairs, my dress would slow me down considerably._

_Then one of them spoke._

"_This the witch you were talking of, mate?" the man in the back left of the group asked, lifting his head just slightly more, just enough for me to make out a sculpted face still covered in shadow. And eyes that regarded me with coldness._

"_Yes, look at her cleaning as if she is a man. And hair the color of fire, I can see how she would bewitch men."_

_Bewitch? No man has ever glanced twice at me!_

"_And those eyes . . ." the man in the front whispered, and my heart began to pound in my chest, fear rising foremost in my mind._

"_Witch? Bewitching men? What are you men on about, I have never received a second glance from a male in all of my twenty four summers." I said in a soft voice, honesty ringing in my voice._

"_And her voice makes lies like truth and silk."lies? I spoke no lies!_

"_Because of you my son committed suicide!" the man in front snapped at me, raising his face all the way up, and my heart went into my throat as I put his face with a name._

"_Mr. Slings?" I gasped, reeling in confusion. His son had killed himself? Over me? Why? I did not even know his sons name, let alone had we even shared a single word of greeting."Because of me?"_

"_Yes, shot himself in the head, leaving a note to explain that you rebuffed his every effort to show you how much he loved you. You put a spell on him, didn't you?" Mr. Slings demanded, his posture stiff and hostile. I backed up slightly, then stilled, frantic, trying to find a way to convince them, to get myself out of this._

"_No! Me and your son had never even spoken a single word to each other! I do not even know his name!" and by the look of blistering rage, I knew I had spoken the wrong words._

"_Witch! How could you take my son from me when you did not even know his name!"_

"_I didn't!" I cried, tears begging to form in my eyes, but I pushed them back, I would not cry in front of these men, not when they were basically accusing me of murder._

"_Her gray eyes are captivating." one of the men in the back whispered._

"_Yes, they make you want to believe her. That must be where all of her power lies." the other whispered back, and half of me wished I was a witch, so I could shut them up. Because their words were doing nothing but egging the situation on._

_For a second, I considered calling for my family, hoping they would be able to save me. But I immediately pushed the thought away, not wanting to put them in danger._

_Suddenly there was a popping sound, loud in the small, cramped room. And then a burning pain in my side so strong it took my breath away and threatened to take my feet out from under me. I braced myself on the table next to me with my right hand, and with my left I touch the place that burned. I struggled to remain conscious as I brought my hand up to reveal it coated in blood. Mr. Slings had brought out his gun while I was not looking and had shot me._

"_Even after a bullet, she still stands!" again, one of the men in the back, but Mr. Slings did not seem to be paying attention to them anymore. Slowly, he came towards me, and I could do nothing to defend myself. I felt like I was going to fall over and pass out any second, the pain just kept growing worse, and my face was oddly cold while my head felt light, like I was floating._

_He reached up and pulled out the clip I had that was holding up my bright hair, allowing it to fall free to the back of my knees. I struggled not to stumble, even as he put a single hand on my bosom, and pushed._

_I stumbled back, lost my balance, and fell flat on my back. I cried out when it flared new pain in my side, and I even taste blood in my mouth. He climbed atop me, straddling my hips, and I could not have squirmed even if I had the strength._

"_Why?" I gasped, tears now slowly running down my cheeks, though I was not blinking to free them, there were just a constant stream, confusion prominent. What had I done to deserve this?_

"_I am making sure you will never take another son." he reached behind his back and pulled out a large hunting knife, glinting in the low light of lanterns, wicked sharp._

"_Whoa!" both men cried, their face horrified. "What are you doing!"_

"_The only way to truly kill a witch is to cut her open, take out her heart, and destroy it. Otherwise she will just come back and take another innocent." he looked back at them. "You agreed to help me kill her."_

"_No, we agreed to shoot her and be witness that it killed her, as our laws require. We never agreed to this! Are you mad? The pain alone it will cause her is just cruel, even if she is a witch."_

"_Which I am starting to think she wasn't." the other whispered, his eyes rapt on my face. I met his gaze with my own dazed on, tears still running. The sympathy and regret I saw was somewhat comforting._

_But what I knew was coming next did not comfort me._

_Without warning, probably because he fear the two men behind him would stop him, he turned with an angry cry and plunged the place into the center of my chest. I wanted to scream, I wanted to cry, I wanted to throw him off and flee, to twist under him to try and make the slick metal disappear. I wanted the feeling to end._

_I wanted to go to sleep and let it end._

"_Take my son will you! Bewitch my men, will you! You little chit!" Mr. Slings was screaming, and I then began aware of the men yanking him off of me, but he had already yanked the blade halfway down my chest, the metal sharp enough to cut through my ribs._

_He must have been sharpening it for ages._

_The man who had looked at me with regret and sorrow gathered me into his arms, while the other held the yelling and spitting Mr. Slings._

_My murderer._

_I was really going to die?_

_I looked up into the face of the man holding me, glad when he held my gaze without flinching __away or looking scared._

_At least I had that before I died._

_Ah, such a thought._

_But I was feeling sleepy now, and the thought did not scare me anymore._

"_Thank you," I whispered to him, aware blood ran down the side of my mouth as I said it. His gaze turned stark, as if he could not believe this had happened. I gave him a smile, wishing I could burn his face into my mind to take with me to the after life. Who knew, maybe if we met in the next realm, I could approach him._

_But my brain would not remember his face._

_Darkness was so warm, so warm . . ._

Now, there was a scare running down the middle of my chest, and a scar in the middle of my stomach from the bullet. I could not seem to stop staring at it, as if it would melt away and the whole thing would undo itself.

But the scar remained. And the fact that my heart was now beating with a different rhythm hinted to me I had done more than just died and come back to life.

I looked up at the old woman sitting across the fire, and she read the question in my eyes.

"You did die." she said simply. I licked my lips, trying to grasp it, but I was still in denial.

"Am I dead now?" I whispered.

"No, you are very much alive."

"I don't understand."

"You are part of an ancient race. A race of immortal females that are born and raised as normal human women. Until they die. Then the immortal blood in them takes over, heals their wounds, and brings them back.They usually always die young, where as I did not." she shrugged with a smile, but I could not smile at the humor.

"Why? Why does this happen." I gasped out, searching for an explanation, wanting a reason. Hearing that I was now back from the dead and apparently immortal was even worse than hearing that I had really died back there.

"Well, dear, that is because you have a purpose." she smiled again, before she said, "one that is going to take eternity to fulfill."


End file.
